


the color inside of my world

by stirringsofconsciousness



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Kid Fic, the birth of a bughead child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-05-01 17:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19182352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stirringsofconsciousness/pseuds/stirringsofconsciousness
Summary: It’s only after he hangs up that Archie realizes: the next time he talks to his friend, Jug’ll be a _father_.





	the color inside of my world

Archie means to be there when Betty and Jughead’s baby is born, he really does. He has a playlist of songs to distract Betty from the labor pains, and he’s already offered to make all the food runs.

But Betty goes into labor in the late afternoon two weeks early, while Archie’s in Atlantic City that night, ready to play at the Borgata. When he gets Jughead’s text that they’re heading to the hospital, he calls back frantically, asking if he should cancel and drive up to Boston immediately.

“It’s okay, Arch,” and it’s weird to hear his oldest friend’s voice sound so mature, even with an edge of panic. “We’re checked in at the hospital, Veronica’s on her way, and everyone says that first babies take forever to arrive. Go perform, we’ll be fine.”

It’s only after he hangs up that Archie realizes: the next time he talks to his friend, Jug’ll be a _father_.

The word resonates in his head, making him dizzy.

—

It’s not even four hours later, while he’s tuning his guitar and prepping for the performance, that he sees the picture on his phone: a tiny little pink baby, eyes screwed up and black hair fuzzing into tiny curls, sprawled out on a white blanket, one arm splayed out in what looks like a wave. Below it, Ronnie had written, “saying hello to her Uncle Archie! see you soon! xo”

He’s awed.

He doesn’t remember most of the show, just the dedication he makes, for a little baby girl, right before he breaks into a cover of John Mayer's “Daughters.”

—

Google Maps says it should take almost six hours to drive from Atlantic City to the hospital where Betty gave birth, but Archie makes it in four and a half, taking the I-95 north the whole way and only stopping for coffee and a quick pee once. His phone keeps buzzing with texts and pictures, but he manages to keep his eyes on the road.

It’s only when he gets to the hospital and is in the elevator – the front desk doesn’t want to let him in, it’s not visiting hours, but they call to the room and Betty insists that he be allowed up – that he realizes that he has no idea what the baby is named. Even when he gets to the room – Veronica at the door, Betty sitting in the only bed in a shapeless hospital gown, Jughead cradling the baby in his arms, all beaming – the whiteboard on the wall only says “Baby Girl Cooper-Jones.”

There is swooping and cheek-kissing and then suddenly – much too suddenly, he’s not ready – he’s sitting next to Betty’s bed in a deeply uncomfortable hospital chair and there’s a little bundle is in his arms, soundly asleep.

“What are you going to call her?” he asks. “She’s not going to be Forsythe Pendleton the fourth, right?”

Veronica laughs, but there’s a look that passes between Betty and Jughead, one of those tender and worried looks that he’s seen them give each other a million times over the years when they’re figuring out how to break bad news to him, and he tenses.

“You ask him,” Betty says softly.

Jughead sits down gingerly on the edge of Betty’s bed. “We wanted to – we thought of a name, we thought of two names actually, if it was a boy we had one name but it’s a girl so…”

“You think I won’t like it?” Archie asks awkwardly, unused to this uncertainty from his friend.

“We want to name her Freddie,” Jughead says. “Frederica Pauline Cooper-Jones. We wanted to make sure she was named after someone…someone…”

“After someone we want our child to be like,” Betty finishes, when she realizes Jughead's voice has failed.

“But only if you don’t mind,” Jughead says.

He looks down at the baby. Thinks about how unfair it is his father will never meet her, will never meet his own kids.

The baby has a hat on, something soft and grey that looks a little like the old crown-shaped beanie Jughead used to wear. “The hospital gave her this?”

“No, I made that,” Betty chuckles.

“I’m glad. It looks warm…good for Freddie.”

The baby wakes up then and lets out a thin, tiny wail. Betty extends her arms to take her daughter and holds her close, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.


End file.
